“So, I’m not sure I understand this ashwalker business properly,” Zheng Nan said, his arms and legs were a blur as he jogged beside the carriage, keeping up with the trotting horses with no sign of strain. “That thing I fought wasn’t a mere corpse puppet, it was a Bai, but broken.”

“You are correct of course,” Gu Xiulan drawled, leaning on the window frame of her carriage. The rolling dunes stretched out ahead of them now. The scrub land of the border was behind them, and they had entered the Golden fields proper. Only the winding white ribbon of the road forcibly carved into the desert by the formations work of the Guo, their dukes, interrupted the whispering vista of the sands. “Are you telling me you didn’t bother to study the Twilight King or his legacy?”

“Eh, surprises make for better tribulations,” Zheng Nan replied, waving a hand dismissively. “I mean, I get why there mighta been a snake out east. That villain was the last time any Emperor called for a grand muster. The Wall of Heroes back in Shuilian has more names under that year than any other.”

“What did you imagine they were when you set out?” Gu Xiulan asked, feeling a little incredulous. The Zheng had a reputation for spontaneity, but this...

“Old broken weapons and corpse puppets, the sort of thing you get when an old stockpile from the Strife gets opened up,” Zheng Nan said with a frown. “But like I said, that thing wasn’t a puppet. It had a real soul, or bits of one at least. Wasn’t an object spirit either. So what was it.”

“Hmph, I suppose other provinces don’t see the need for proper education on the matter,” Gu Xiulan sniffed, watching the road ahead, the dust rising from the horse's hooves, Captain Yun ‘s distant orders echoing back to the patrolmen and guards. It was nostalgic. “That was the reason the Twilight King was so dangerous you brute. He was not a mere man, no matter how mighty, but a plague beyond all reckoning. Man or beast, his blood made of them slaves, less than that even. It infected them with his soul, reduced them to something dead yet not. And each new infected could infect others in turn. This was the horror of the Twilight King. If it had been mere corpse puppetry my ancestor would not have wrought this from the beautiful fields.”

She gestured out of the carriage at the silent dunes.

Zheng Nan grunted in acknowledgement, uncharacteristically thoughtful. “Three times the villain struck down, three times risen again, huh? Thought that bit of the poem was just a fancy way of saying the ol’ King was a slippery bastard who escaped three times.”

“He wasn’t. Lu Guanxi killed him three times, he shattered his body with heavenly lightning, burned his soul to cinder in the fires of the sun,” Gu Xiulan said, drumming her fingers on the window frame. “It wasn’t enough. Wherever a piece of his soul lay, he could rise again, though it is said he grew more deranged and beastly with each resurrection, even as his power grew. Thus the Purifying Sun burned everything. The Ashwalkers are what remain, the least of them are merely malice and death qi animating sand and ash. But allow enough to pool together and the tattered old souls that cling to the Grave of the Sun regain some semblance of self, like that thing you fought. Presumably he was some junior officer of the Bai armies that arrived for the muster.”

“Hmph, how’ve you lot not put them all to rest in all these millenia since?” Zheng Nan asked, picking at his ear.

“You can’t put them to rest,” Xiulan shrugged. “Those we destroyed will reform out in the desert somewhere soon enough.”

“Never ending enemies huh? Some folk have all the luck,” Zheng Nan laughed, but it felt a little forced compared to his usual boisterous cheer. “Well! Maybe I can end up doing something about that. Breaking the Grave would be a real Ascension Quest!”

Xiulan regarded him blankly as he guffawed like a fool. The sheer arrogance of him to say that here.

She didn’t dislike it entirely.

“I like him! He’s not boring like most of the boys you know,” Linhuo chirped in her mind.

“Oi, you listening?”

Gu Xiulan blinked, shaking her head. “I am sorry, what were you saying?”

“I said you must be so disappointed to be missing the fun!” Zheng Nan laughed. “That business with the war in the south.”

“It is quite vexing to be pulled away, but I understand that my clan cannot risk both myself and my sister,,” Gu Xiulan said absently, now studying the raggedly dressed young man. Idle conversation aside, this was the first time she had met a member of the Zheng clan. He was so unrefined. Between his ignorance and vagabond garb, it was difficult to square his status as a scion of a venerable clan. He was well appointed in other ways though.

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“Get some oil on him, and I’ll be the match,” Linhuo laughed.

Xiulan huffed. How had her spirit developed such a filthy mind?

“What are the Zheng’s thoughts on those matters?” she asked idly.

Captain Yun had been reluctant to let the young man join their little caravan. The Zheng’s reputation with young lords and ladies were legendary for a reason after all. However, Zheng Nan bore a scroll with the official seal of the Zheng’s leading council addressed to Father and Grandfather. Refusal would have been far too rude.

However, Captain Yun had ordered sternly, Gu Xiulan was to remain in the carriage, and Zheng Nan outside it. This was within the authority he had been granted by her father. Gu Xiulan did find it irritating, she wasn’t a child after all. However she understood the needs of propriety.

Zheng Nan obviously did not. He had taken this restriction with laughter and promptly asked Captain Yun if his tent was also off-limits. Gu Xiulan had never seen the old officer so mortified. Of course, throughout the following day, she had seen Zheng Nan proposition half of the troops, men and women alike. She supposed he was just playing around, using his clan's reputation to deflect scrutiny.

“According to my Master, the grannies are grumbling a bit,” the red-haired young man replied easily, bounding along without a care. “Wondering if that new Duchess will put on a real show.”

“No worries about these new underground beasts?” Xiulan asked, peering ahead. The scrub and marginal lands of the western border were giving way to golden sand at this point with only unnatural patches of green here and there marking the little holdings and farms.

Zheng Nan laughed boisterously. “Ancestor Zhi and the Reveler broke the Lord of the cave demons over their knees when they returned to the Water Curtain Cave an age ago to found our city. If they want a scrap, they’ll find us ready for it. They’re a cowardly lot though. Can’t imagine what could have got them so stirred up.”

“How very flippant,” Gu Xiulan drawled, resting her cheek in her hand. “Does the prospect of war truly excite you so?”

“Perhaps it does,” the young man replied, a flash of something sharp in his good-natured smile. “Things have been a little rough this past millennia, and we Zheng keep finding ourselves left out. Fighting these Ashwalkers, these scraps of a war. It’ll be fun. But are you telling me, with that arm of yours, that your blood doesn’t boil at the notion of a real fight?”

Gu Xiulan shot him a sharp look. “We of the Golden Fields have had quite enough of ruin,” she answered sharply. It was the proper thing to say.

He let out a hearty guffaw, bounding over a road totem and landing in a spray of sand. “As you say, Miss Gu, but I have to say, you were a much more entrancing sight with the heaven’s power coursing through your veins.”

She scoffed. “Spare me your idle compliments, cad of Zheng. I am not so naive as all of that.”

“A cad I might be, but a Zheng does not lie.” He laughed. “You dwellers of field and valley are just too wrapped up in your games to sup properly from the wine of life.”

Linhuo whispered.

“You never did give a straight answer,” Xiulan said irritably, ignoring her spirit. “What interest do the Zheng clan have in the people of Gu?”

“I already told you. My message is for your Father and Grandfather's ears,” Zheng Nan replied, amused. “My Master was quite clear on that when he gave it to my bond siblings and I to deliver.”

So, the Gu clan were not the only ones the Zheng were sending messages to. What plot could be afoot in the land of Ebon Rivers?

“But -” she glanced his way as he continued, “- a simple fellow though I might be, I imagine that those grannies are getting tired of the world moving along without our say so. Things these days are getting a bit lax, aren’t they?” he commented breezily.

“I am not certain what you mean,” Gu Xiulan replied carefully.

“Heh. Just that it’s a real shame that clans like the Gu have been so troubled. We mighta scrapped with your featherbrained forebears, but you’re still a peer, ya know?” Zheng Nan smiled, and something about that wide grin spoke more of threat than joy. “Though the Guo are good lads, of course. Earned their spot with blood and sweat, and they do things in the proper ways, as far as you folks can manage. Got a sister going out that way too.”

Gu Xiulan swallowed, put off by the sudden seriousness of his tone and the implications of his words. “... I appreciate the regard of such a storied clan. I am sure my Father will receive you with great honor.”

“Hah! I’m sure he will,” Zheng Nan said brightly. “I’m looking forward to getting a taste of those storied Gu roasts. And maybe finding someone less uptight to chat up!”

Gu Xiulan smiled tightly. “Yes, perhaps so. Regardless, please excuse me, Sir Zheng.”

Xiulan drew the curtain shut as he nodded an absent dismissal, turning his eyes to a returning outrider. She leaned back into her padded seat, clasping the pendant hanging from her neck in her hand. The flows of Ling Qi’s energy were like a cool balm on her hand.

She wondered at the true implications of the Zheng’s words. She was no master of Imperial politics, not like Mother, but, all the same, it felt as if she had just learned something important. Between the appearance of the Duchess at the tournament and her declaration of alliance with the Bai, this barbarian war, and now the movements of the Zheng…

Just what was happening in the Empire of late?

Her arm throbbed dully, sparks of electricity dancing between the bandages. Gu Xiualn grimaced, closing her eyes as she forced the heavenly qi stirring in her meridians to calm, cycling her qi through the exercises of her Wildflower art.

...Perhaps this was a good thing. She had not been born for peaceful days.